


do you think of me?

by jinjangled



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Soulmates, its just fluff and socky being oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 16:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13438839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinjangled/pseuds/jinjangled
Summary: "Rocky got used to the shivers, merely accepting it as just something that happened. He wasn’t ill, he wasn’t cold, it seemed he was just shivering. Soulmates were a past memory, he’d given up on the fantasy after he realised he’d never be able to tell a soulmate-shiver apart from his normal ones, and his near constant goosebumps erased further possibility of being able to tell."





	do you think of me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softsocky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsocky/gifts).



> this is just a quick socky soulmate au thing!!  
> thank u [Katie](https://softsocky.tumblr.com) for encouraging me n validating my motives ily sm  
> uhh listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szmKx4tWYFw) if u want bc i really love it (it has nothing to do w the fic its just a very nice song)

Rocky had never felt the pins and needles that you were supposed to feel when your soulmate thought about you. For this, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Perhaps a bitter mix of the two.

His family, teachers, adults in general, had all told him that it was only normal not to feel them. He wasn’t  _ supposed _ to feel them dance across his skin, creep up his arms, feel a shiver run through him. He wasn’t supposed to feel his cheeks heat up as he thought that someone, some stranger out there, was thinking about him.

He wondered what they’d be thinking about if he happened to cross their mind. Would he dance across their mind, with a smile on his face? Would he have grace in his steps? Or would he be dragging his feet with his shoulders hunched? He’d always hoped that his soulmate felt the same way about what they were. He’d hoped that they had an open mind, an open heart, and a kind word. He was more than ready to meet this person; they were destined to be together, hand picked by a greater power.

The goosebumps were supposed to stop, quite suddenly, when both parties realised what meaning they had to each other. For some people, it was instant; they’d felt a connection beyond understanding. Rocky wanted that. He wanted to be tied to someone beyond the constructs of society, he wanted more than to date; he wanted certainty.

Every time he felt a shiver coming on, he crossed his fingers and squinted his eyes shut. In class, he would find his mind drifting away from his surroundings, the teacher’s words becoming a distant buzz, as he anticipated the tickle of goosebumps across his skin. It never came, and every day, he went to sleep disappointed.

 

The previous year had been, by far, the toughest of all. He’d struggled through every subject that he’d chosen for himself at the start of the year, and he  _ hated  _ that he’d struggled. Not because it was difficult, but because he had been told he’d struggle. Everybody had warned him, they’d told him too many times that he would crash and burn, that he would end up making himself ill. With a determined mind and a stubborn attitude, he’d signed the forms off and took the subjects he’d wanted to. He was smart, and he knew that he could do it if he put his mind to it. It came as a surprise to him when he’d hit a wall halfway through the year, when he’d sat through weeks of classes only to come out of them having not processed one single word of it. He’d ended many nights crying into his pillow, ink smeared on the sides of his hands, papers strewn across his bed. The words in his textbook blurred together, they were loud and ugly and made no sense to his exhausted mind. He slept less, ate less, thought less. No matter what he did, he couldn’t think straight. Meditation hadn’t worked, and he’d tried herbal remedies. Everything he did at school was unsatisfactory to himself; no matter how close the mark got to being maximum, it wasn’t good enough. No recent memories he had weren’t blurry, and trying to remember anything became a lost cause. It was pointless to look into his fuzzy mind to look for information that danced beyond his reach.

Perhaps he’d overworked himself that year. Perhaps he’d set a bar so high that he couldn’t reach it, even with the amount of determination he’d had. He was proud of himself for not going down without a fight, but with a resigned sigh, he’d ended up swapping into subjects that would take less of a mental toll on him for his final year. He’d kept some of the subjects, though, so he knew that his overall mark would not be brought down too far, and that not all of last year would go to waste. He knew that he would be able to get a good score in his new subjects, though it still would not be easy.

One of his new subjects was history. He hadn’t taken history recently, not since middle school at least. He’d opted to take subjects that were interesting over subjects that would contribute more toward his final score. Although he had high hopes for what his new subjects would bring, it did nothing to help calm his nerves leading up to the first history class.

 

He’d blamed the nerves on the way he’d been conditioned to expect difficulty. Last year, every class brought a new hard topic or concept, and not a single break in between topics. He knew that some of the blame could be shifted on to the fact that he knew very little people in the class; he wasn’t sure if he would be able to make friends as easily as he would like to. His other friends didn’t take history, as they’d opted for legal studies, and some part of him wished he had too, just so he could feel more comfortable. So he felt  _ less  _ like throwing up. 

But, here he was; walking into the classroom with his textbooks braced against his chest. He’d chosen a spot in the middle row, tucked away to the side. For today, he’d focus on catching up to speed. He could make friends any day of the year, but today’s discussion would not happen any other day of the year.

He’d watched as people filtered into the classroom, some coming in a little later. He recognised some of them as students in the year below; they were given the opportunity to complete a subject early to relieve them of some of the pressure in their final year. He’d turned back to copy down what he saw on the board, scribbling notes and easy ways to remember some of the topics in the margins. At some point, he’d shivered, and he’d felt nerves fill him from head to toe. After it had passed, his ears had processed the low hum of the air conditioner from the back of the room. Sighing dejectedly, he returned to his notes. No soulmate this time.

 

He’d been in the class for a number of weeks now, and he’d made friends with a few other students, but none of which he hung out with outside of class. He felt more at ease in the class, and he’d invested a lot of time into extra reading, doing the same for his other subjects. He’d felt a stronger inclination toward this class, however.

One thing that he found himself thinking about a lot in the class - if not every other minute - was why his teacher felt it necessary to have the air conditioning on every day. Even when it was mild, comfortably so, it was still on at an awfully low temperature. He’d learnt to bring his jumper with him to history, but the cold seemed to seep right into his bones, sending uncomfortable shudders down his spine and making the hairs on his arms stand up. Grumbling, he rubbed at his arms vigorously. 

“Cold, are you?” The boy that sat to his left asked, looking amused. Rocky nodded grimly, coloring his scribbled flower in with a bright green highlighter. It looked awful. 

“We can’t just sit in room temperature, at all, can we?” He mumbled, directing it to the boy to his left. He didn’t actually know his name, just that they were in the same year. The boy, comfortable in a t-shirt, laughed awkwardly as Rocky shuddered again. 

 

It was soon a month into the school year, and Rocky still struggled to understand why the room had to be so damn  _ cold _ . As soon as he took a step into the classroom, coming from the already cold school grounds, he shivered immediately. The air was freezing, yet the teacher stood at the front of the room in a t-shirt and slacks, looking quite comfortable. Rocky looked around the room as he walked through to check if anyone else looked as uncomfortable as he felt, and his eyes fell on a boy sitting toward the back of the room who he had never noticed before. He had his head down, but glanced up at Rocky as he passed. As their eyes met, his steps faltered a little, and he lost track of where he was headed. Rocky couldn’t take his eyes off the boy.

He had a soft face, with pretty features. His button nose was lifted slightly, adorably so. His eyes sparkled as he watched Rocky walk, his plump and pouty lips curling up into the beginnings of a smile. His dark brown hair was fluffy, draped across his forehead and sticking out a little at the sides, managing to look both coordinated and like he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked kind, although somehow slightly mischievous. It might have been the way that he looked up through his fringe, not  _ quite  _ smiling, but with a look of almost-amusement. He was forced to turn his head away, his pace picking back up. Rocky felt that he’d walked by all too quickly, he hadn’t looked for quite long enough, hadn’t looked quite hard enough. He forced himself to sit down at his seat without a second glance over his shoulder, although the memory of the boy taunted him, the teasing knowledge of him being  _ right there  _ in his periphery. Cold air blew toward him from the back of the room, and goosebumps littered his skin.

The rest of the lesson was spent in discomfort, his uniform doing nothing to ward off the chills he felt. It might be a fever, he thought, because his skin didn’t feel that cold to touch. His nose was slightly stuffy, and he felt a little out of sorts, so he made a reminder to pick up some medicine after school ended that day for the cold that he was probably getting. There was nothing he could do to ward off the memory of the boy in the back row, either. With the hint of a smile, and a glimmer in his eyes; soft skin and even softer hair. The way that the sunlight filtered through the window and fell upon his profile so perfectly, the light forming a halo. He wondered what his name was, what made him want to take history, what other subjects he was taking. He wondered who his friends were, what classes  _ they _ were taking. He wanted to know more about him, more about his life. But more importantly, he wanted to know how to coax a full grin out of that tiny smile. 

 

The boy in the back row looked up from where he was scribbling on his books whenever Rocky walked in. He’d give him that same tiny little smirk, like he had just told a particularly self-satisfying joke. Rocky couldn’t bring himself to smile back some days, the cheeky looks that the boy would shoot him would go straight to his head and jumble his thoughts. He’d feel lightheaded and breathless as he walked through the room to his seat, his steps as unsteady as they would be if he were to walk on a cloud. Rocky had added a scarf to his growing attire in the hopes that something would help remedy this icebox of a classroom. The boy that sat to his left had began to make jokes about it, jokes at which Rocky would sulk at, because it just wasn’t fair that nobody else was affected as badly, or even at all. He’d appreciate it if someone else would find themselves in the same boat as himself. His teeth hadn’t started chattering yet, thank goodness, but the shuddering was getting a little annoying. 

History became a class that he dreaded. The work was alright, aside from all of the reading and source analysing, and he had no real difficulties doing the essays. What he did have a major problem with, though, was how he could barely concentrate in the class. Beforehand it had been slightly easier to deal with, the shivering was toned down and not as frequent, but as of two weeks ago, the discovery of the cute boy in the back had seemed to only amplify it. He was constantly cold, yet the boy to his left was constantly assuring him that, no, his skin was actually quite  _ warm _ . He was shuddering so often that it was really starting to get on his nerves, and the goosebumps that spread across his back were becoming something he never wanted to feel again.

He realised that this whole soulmate thing might have been ruined by this class. Goosebumps were no longer a surprise event, and they started to happen more often at home as well. His mother had pressed a hand to his forehead worriedly, and had even taken him to a doctor. There was nothing wrong with him at all, yet the shivering didn’t ease up as time passed. 

Every few nights, the goosebumps would stop, and he would go a few blissful hours without a single shudder; almost if they had something better to do than ripple across his skin. Come late evening, they would come back with a vengeance. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, bitterly waiting for them to die down like they did every night so he could fall asleep.

It was a Tuesday morning, and it was  _ cold. _ The morning news had warned of frost, and as Rocky made his way toward his school, he could hear the grass crunching under his feet. Bundled up in a scarf, coat, and gloves, he didn’t shiver once, contrary to what he was expecting. 

History was the first subject for the day. He groaned as he hesitated outside of the door before walking inside gingerly. He braced himself for the shudders…  _ that didn’t come _ . He gasped, a gleeful smile spreading across his face. It was now habit to look toward the back of the room as he walked between rows, looking for the boy who looked like an angel come down to earth. The boy was absent from his seat, and Rocky felt strangely disappointed. He missed the impish look that would be sent his way, missed the look of shy amusement. He spent the lesson wondering why the boy hadn’t come into class, and if he was alright. Something told Rocky that he probably just had a cold, and was at home in bed sleeping. He huffed, the thought of a gentle, relaxed expression and a mouth open and snoring coaxing a bubble of laughter out from him.

It was noon, and Rocky was sitting inside the library to escape the cold. He hadn’t seen the boy around the school grounds; not that he’d kept an eye out specifically for him. As he went to turn the page of the book he was half paying attention to, a sudden shiver caught him off guard. It was so violent that he felt the book start to slip in his hands, but he caught it in time. He frowned, equal parts annoyed and confused. For the few hours that he’d been unbothered by these chills, he’d had a nice day. He sighed, kissing goodbye his good day.

 

Wednesday morning, Rocky was at school early. He’d left home earlier so that he missed the rain that was predicted to arrive around the time he usually left, but he was now left alone in the senior section of the school by himself, with nothing to do. He heard the click of the side gate and footsteps on the pavement through the ear that didn’t have an earbud in, looking up to see who had arrived early like him.

It was the boy from the back row of his history class, his hair wet from his morning shower. His nose was red, presumably from the cold that Rocky had guessed he was suffering from. The boy looked up, wet fringe falling clumsily in front of his eyes. The boy smiled, a wide, easy smile, and Rocky  _ shivered  _ as the boy came closer. There must have been a sudden change in the wind, as the both of them had rubbed at their arms.

“Cold, right?” the boy called out as he neared. Rocky nodded, his stomach twisting and turning as the butterflies threatened to overcome him. His brain turned to mush, his knees weak, as the boy looked at him with happiness.

“It wasn’t, just two minutes ago.” Rocky replied, stumbling over his messy thoughts and falling into an uncoordinated sentence. The boy just kept smiling, his eyes soft.

“You’re in history with me, aren’t you? Did I miss anything yesterday?”

“Oh, uh, no, nothing important.” 

Rocky sighed inwardly, feeling nothing but immense embarrassment and  _ cold _ . He rubbed at his arms, but nothing seemed to work, no matter how warm his arms were. The boy looked relieved.

“Cool. Oh, my name is Sanha, by the way! I’m in the year below you.” He looked so friendly, the way he spoke to Rocky easily. 

“I’m Minhyuk, but Rocky works too.”

So his name was Sanha.  _ Sanha _ . It was a nice name, a name that Rocky could now put to the face that looked ever playful. The conversation had been mainly small talk, discussing little things that had no true meaning, but had much  _ too  _ meaning to Rocky. This was Sanha, the boy with bright eyes and red cheeks, the boy who looked at him like he was interested in the words he was saying. Sanha, who was taking a subject a year in advance.

Sanha, who stood in front of him, looking cold and small as he hugged himself for warmth.

They sat separately in history, but Rocky occasionally looked over his shoulder. It was the first day he’d been able to, and he’d chosen a moment when the shivers had subsided to look around. Sanha sat in the back row, fidgeting in his seat, concentrating hard. His eyebrows were furrowed, mouth hanging open cutely, rubbing at his arms harshly. The air conditioning was on, again, but everyone else wore a t-shirt. Rocky felt some comfort knowing that Sanha was obviously suffering, and he was no longer the only one facing this issue. Sanha’s attention broke, his eyes dropping down and searching the room, where his gaze finally settled on Rocky. 

Rocky smiled faintly, and turned away, shivering in his seat.  _ Damn  _ this cold.

 

The winter finally melted away into spring, and Sanha had moved to a seat on Rocky’s right side. Over the course of a month, Rocky had leapt at every opportunity to speak to Sanha, spending some lunch times together brushing over notes. Sanha was as determined as Rocky to get a good grade. Where Rocky struggled, Sanha was able to coach him; and Rocky helped Sanha when he needed it too. At the beginning, it felt a little odd to be coached by a student younger than him, but he soon got to know Sanha for more than his year level. He began to associate Sanha with a mind as bright as his smile, as radiant as his kindness. He got to know Sanha for the way he teased Rocky to no end, making sly comments to make fun of him, but light enough for Rocky to understand their benevolence. 

Rocky got used to the shivers, merely accepting it as just something that happened. He wasn’t ill, he wasn’t cold, it seemed he was just shivering. Soulmates were a past memory, he’d given up on the fantasy after he realised he’d never be able to tell a soulmate-shiver apart from his normal ones, and his near constant goosebumps erased further possibility of being able to tell. He didn’t find the idea of soulmates as attractive anymore, as having Sanha around kept his mind off of it. He found a true friend in Sanha, found someone who made him laugh, who calmed his nerves and eased his turbulent mind. He’d decided to live with the fact that he considered Sanha the most attractive person he knew, would likely ever know, and he knew that he would be able to live with romantic attraction to his best friend; because as long as he had Sanha there, by his side, he would be able to live with anything.

The days became warmer, yet Rocky never truly got rid of the chills. Sanha had picked up some new hobbies, he played instruments now, and, like Rocky, took up dancing. Sanha had his lessons at the same time Rocky did, and Rocky felt more at ease during his lessons as the shivers began to disappear during that time slot. 

Sanha was wearing a thick sweater, despite the weather being the warmest for a while. Rocky was too, although he did for a reason; to hide the goosebumps, and to weakly attempt at staying warm. They were more often spending time together on the weekends, now that the days were warmer.

“Sanha, aren’t you too warm in that?” Rocky asked. They sat outside on a park bench, watching several dogs playing together in the distance. 

“No, I’ll be too cold if I don’t rug up. You know that I get cold really easily.” Sanha whined, pouting. “Shouldn’t I be asking the same thing?”

“No,” Rocky huffed. “You know me. I’m always cold too.”

 

Constantly feeling a little chilly was something he was looking forward to in summer, as he hoped it would help take the edge off the insufferably hot weather. Perhaps he’d be able to avoid the uncomfortable, sticky heat, while everyone else sweated right through their clothes. He could stand being cold, if it meant he could avoid those hot and sleepless nights. 

Unfortunately, as spring rolled into summer, he found himself getting the worst of both things. He shivered, chills running up and down his spine like usual, but he found himself drenched in sweat. His nights were spent tossing and turning in bed, never able to find a comfortable position. His skin was clammy and hot, yet he shivered like he was outside in a blizzard. It eased off around the same time every night, which he was thankful for.

To avoid questions and comments, he wore cool summer clothing to fit in. He absolutely  _ hated  _ it with a passion. Nearly every day he was experiencing these awful chills, paired with sweating and exhaustion like every normal summer. He was confused, to say the least, and he felt he could only complain to Sanha. The younger boy always understood, groaning and rolling his eyes in agreement. 

 

Rocky walked into the history classroom, followed closely by Sanha. They sat down at their desks, Sanha wiping sweat from his brow while Rocky gulped down water. He cast a look sideways at Sanha, Rocky watching him fondly as he sighed angrily, dabbing at his face with his sleeve. His lips formed the cutest pout he’d ever seen. To Rocky, Sanha was always  _ so  _ cute, no matter what he did. Sanha shivered violently. 

“I’m sick to death of these goosebumps.” Sanha whinged, making grabby hands at Rocky’s water bottle. Rocky handed the bottle off, Sanha unscrewing the cap eagerly.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that you two are always freezing?” The boy to Rocky’s left asked, curiously. “I mean, this is the warmest day this month. Everyone else is boiling hot, but you two have goosebumps.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. We might have the same condition.” Rocky muttered, only half listening, as he smiled at Sanha. He let his chin fall into the palm of his hand, propping himself up with an elbow on his desk. Watching Sanha never got old, especially when he received one of Sanha’s grins that he loved so much.

“You’ve… you’ve heard of soulmates before, right?” The boy continued. He sounded hesitant, almost like he would regret saying whatever came next, and that grabbed the attention of both Rocky and Sanha. They turned to look at him at the same time. “Apparently you get goosebumps whenever your soulmate thinks about you. Well, it stops after you meet. After you realise.”

“As if I’m gonna realise my soulmate is my soulmate. I already get constant goosebumps.” Rocky scoffed. 

“That’s my point. You don’t think that… Oh, I don’t know, Sanha might be yours? And you might be Sanha’s?” The boy explained. Beside Rocky, Sanha laughed.

“No way,” Sanha shook his head. Rocky tried to hide it, but the way that Sanha smiled made his hands shake.

 

It was a week later, on Friday night, and Sanha had invited Rocky over for a movie and sleepover. Sanha had set up blankets on the couch, pillows piled up against each armrest. They’d planned to study a little, but had gotten distracted scrolling through social media on their phones, laying on Sanha’s bed. Rocky could feel Sanha’s hair tickle the side of his face, the two of them on the one pillow that Sanha had left on his bed. Rocky hadn’t felt a shiver in a while, and he was enjoying it while it lasted, taking the chance to watch Sanha at peace, completely focused on his phone. He could still see Sanha’s arms covered in little prickles. Turning back to his phone, Rocky snorted, a picture reminding him completely and utterly of Sanha.

“This made me think of you.” He turned his phone so Sanha could see it. Sanha grinned, looking over at him. He looked so beautiful, tired but wide awake, his eyes full of every constellation Rocky could only dream of being able to name, could only dream of being able to  _ count _ .

“Yeah, that’s a good one.” Sanha laughed, his voice barely registering as Rocky watched Sanha. The sweet sound of his giggles rang around the room, filling the space between them. He could hear the pulse of his heartbeat, strong in his ears, as he fell deeper into the affection that he held for Sanha. Rocky smiled right back, big and bright, and Sanha shivered again. Sanha’s eyes slowly narrowed, his grin gradually faded, and his expression morphed into something he would wear if he were regarding a strange creature. Rocky felt scrutinised, self-conscious, anxious. This look didn’t suit Sanha. It didn’t look right, his mouth downturned and hard set. His eyebrows shouldn’t be turned down like that, either. Had he done something wrong? Rocky desperately needed Sanha to look away, or he needed to close his eyes. Just as Rocky doubted he could take any more of it, Sanha’s eyes took on a distant look, rather suddenly. Rocky frowned, entirely confused and hurt to some extent. Sanha’s face paled, and Rocky shivered. Goosebumps formed on his arms, and another intense shudder ran down his spine to follow up.

“What’s up?” Rocky asked, voice shaking. “Sanha, you’re scaring me.”

“I… You… What?” Sanha whispered, focusing back in on Rocky’s face. He looked serious, more so than Rocky had ever seen him, and his eyes were frantic. The stars were still there, suspended in his beautiful eyes, and Rocky wanted so much to keep looking. “Let me try something.”

Sanha stared straight at him. He appeared to be thinking hard, and Rocky shuddered. His skin prickled, and Sanha watched as his hairs stood straight. Rocky’s stomach was once again filled with butterflies as Sanha’s face relaxed again, and a small smile replaced his horrified expression. His cheeks slowly regained colour, so much so that they were slightly pink. The lines between his brows smoothed again, his eyebrows relaxed back into their normal position.

“He might be right.” Sanha mumbled, a whisper in the dead silence of his room. He looked at his own arms, attracting Rocky’s attention to where his skin lay flat. Rocky could hear his quiet breathing, the sound of a breath dragging roughly over a lump in his throat. “You might be my soulmate.”

Rocky felt a rush of adrenaline, anxiety, and confusion. Sanha was his soulmate. It made sense, and he wondered why he’d never just taken a step back and  _ thought _ . Sanha was his soulmate, the person chosen for him, the boy he was to spend the rest of his life with. Sanha would be there by his side as he struggled, and in return, he would be Sanha’s rock. His body relaxed, no longer controlled by the sporadic quivering. The shivers subsided for good, as the realisation settled in his head. He was Sanha’s. He felt the world still, his mind quieten down, and for some time, all that mattered was the way that Sanha was looking at him. Mere seconds ago, there was a look of terror deep in his eyes. But as Sanha gazed across at him, face awfully close as they lay on the same pillow, he could only see relief and adoration. Rocky hoped that Sanha knew how beautiful he looked with flushed cheeks, a face full of hope and love. 

The corners of his lips twitched into a smile, and Rocky’s whole world became Sanha. Everything was  _ Sanha. _ The stars in the sky reminded him of the stars in Sanha’s eyes, the gentle wind reminding him of breathless laughter as they chased each other through the streets of their hometown. Sanha’s skin was the soft petals of flowers, his hair was their scent. Sanha was  _ everything _ , and he would remain everything for as long as they were together.

Sanha’s hand clumsily patted across the covers of his bed, searching blindly for Rocky’s hand, where their fingers locked together. Rocky squeezed, feeling his heartbeat settle into something more sure, more regular. His heart beat with the same certainty he had about himself and Sanha.

This would last.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading til the end!!   
> you can find me [here](https://jinjangled.tumblr.com)!


End file.
